But Meg was speaking: “Say, you see here,” she said to the young policeman, her voice a low drawl. Florence heard them indistinctly against the roar of the storm. So there she stood with her back to the wind, clinging tightly to the handle of her bag and hoping against hope that she would not be obliged to reveal her secret there and then.
CHAPTER XX
THE GREAT MOMENT
The revelation that had come to Lucile as she sat there listening to the first notes of a great concerto, led by a famous virtuoso, was so unusual, so altogether startling, that she felt tempted to doubt her senses.
“Surely,” she whispered to herself, “I must be mistaken. There is a resemblance, but she is not that woman. Imagine a great virtuoso, one of the famous musicians of our land, being in a department store at two hours before midnight! Fancy her going up and down streets, in and out of the stores and shops dressed in all manner of absurd costumes, playing the star role in a newspaper stunt to increase circulation! How impossible! How—how utterly absurd!”
She paused for reflection and as she paused, as if to join her in quiet thought, the great musician allowed her flying fingers to come to rest on the keyboard while a violin soloist did his part.
Then, quick as light, but not too swiftly for Lucile’s keen eyes, she slipped something from her finger, a something that sent off a brilliant flash of light. This she placed on the piano beside the keyboard.
To Lucile, resting as it did against the black of the ebony piano, this thing stood out like a circle of stars against the deep blackness of night. She felt her lips forming the words:
“Don’t put it there! A hundred people will see it!”
That dull gray circle with the flashing spot of light was a ring; Cordie’s iron ring with its diamond setting. There was no longer a single vestige of doubt in the girl’s mind regarding the identity of the Mystery Lady and the Spirit of Christmas. They were one and the same, and together they were Patricia Diurno, the celebrated virtuoso.
Somehow Lucile got through that two hours without screaming or jumping from her seat to hurl herself upon the platform, but she will never quite know just how she did it. At times she drove the whole affair from her mind to think of other unsolved problems—of Laurie and the lost author; of Cordie, and of Sam. At other times she found herself completely absorbed by the wonderful music which poured forth.